[It is spring 1952, in a house in northern England. It is clearly a large house, but the scene is set in the living area] [JAMES, an 19-year-old unemployed man, is sitting at a desk, writing quickly, focused on his work. There is a phone in the corner, on another table, but JAMES does not look at it]
JAMES: (Muttering under his breath, barely audible, counting something as he writes) 5…..10…..48……..96
[The phone rings loudly, seemingly out of place; sounding like a fire alarm. JAMES leaps out of his seat, being shocked out of his focus]
JAMES: (Angrily) Not again. What now?
[JAMES walks over to the phone, sitting down next to it, visibly calms himself down, and snatches the receiver]
JAMES: Hello?
[Lights come up on a split scene on the other side of the stage, with CHRIS, a 25-year-old police officer in uniform, fidgeting with the phone wire as he steps from one foot to the other]
CHRIS: Oh James. It’s Chris. Thank god you answered. I thought you were going to let it ring.
JAMES: Oh, Chris. Are you calling me from the station?
CHRIS: (Sounding troubled) Yes. I want to come home early today, to see you.
JAMES: (Oblivious) Oh, how lovely. I know it’s hard for you to get out early. I appreciate the effort, Chris.
[There’s an awkward moment of silence, as CHRIS bites his lip nervously, tears brimming in his eyes]
JAMES: Chris, are you still there?
CHRIS: Yes. Sorry.
JAMES: Oh.
[Another awkward silence]
JAMES: So, I’ll see you when you get home?
[JAMES moves to hang up the phone]
CHRIS: (Suddenly) Wait!
JAMES: Is everything alright?
CHRIS: (Shakily, almost in tears) James…..they know.
JAMES: Who’s they? And what do they know?
CHRIS: They…(Sobs sharply and suddenly) They know about us.
[JAMES freezes, opening his mouth, but no sound comes out. He closes it again, looking like an incredibly realistic statue, frozen in an expression of shock]
CHRIS: I’m sorry. I tried to stall them.
JAMES: I…I...Wha-
CHRIS: I’ve been fired James. And my trial is next week.
[The shocked expression JAMES has slides off his face, and he takes a sweeter tone]
JAMES: Oh Chris, I know we’ll get through this. (sounding less sure) But what does this mean for us?
CHRIS: No time for that. You need to get out of our house before they get there.
JAMES: Before who gets here?
CHRIS: The detectives. They're coming for you.
JAMES: What about you?
CHRIS: Arrested. I’m using my phone call to tell you. Tell my mother to get a lawyer for me, would you?
JAMES: Arrested? Wait, this can’t be happening. Will they arrest me?
CHRIS: James, run. Please. For us.
JAMES: I’m not fast enough. They’ll catch me. Will they arrest me?
CHRIS: If they catch you, tell them I made you do this. I pressured you, say anything. Blame me.
JAMES: I…
CHRIS: Blame me.
JAMES: Chris…
CHRIS: Go. Now. I will find a way to get to you. I’ll get out and find you.
[There’s a click, as CHRIS puts down the phone. Lights plunge CHRIS into darkness. JAMES puts down the phone, and scrambles to his feet. He grabs a bag, and stuffs a disarray of his belongings into it, before stumbling to the door. He stops, and turns back to quietly survey the room]
JAMES: (softly) Goodbye Chris. Until we meet again.
[JAMES opens the door to leave the room, but backs away from the door, as at the same moment, 6 police officers burst through the door. JAMES is terrified, and cries out. He then drops his bag, to raise his hands on his head.]
[BLACKOUT]
The same pale hand that had once learnt to clutch a pen, with ink stains streaming along the tiny palm; is now clasping a shimmering sword, not only with experience but with considerable expertise.
The same gentle feet that had once learnt to hold her weight; are now poised for rapid movement, ready to leap and shift at an instant’s warning.
Fredi had changed.
As little as Alfdin wants to admit it, she knows her little sister has changed.
Fredi’s messy hair is shorter, no longer to her waist. Fighting had proved to be a challenge with her previous blonde cascading locks, something no ponytail or plait could fix. Her new look, with a short pixie haircut, suits her new personality better. Alfdin knows that. But, Alfdin misses the other Fredi. The younger Fredi.
The Fredi that giggled uncontrollably whenever she saw any dog in the street, and chased every butterfly within her sight. The Fredi that smiled, and sat and listened to Alfdin’s stories about dangerous dragons and mighty adventures, and didn’t ask strategic questions. The questions were simpler back then.
“How big was the dragon? Bigger than our entire house?” had morphed into “So, did you attack the underbelly or the cheek?”
Alfdin loves Fredi. She really does. But it isn’t the same.
And it never would be.
Alfdin no longer heard her sister’s childlike voice in her head on missions. Didn’t need to. Fredi was right there.
Going on adventures with Fredi always felt strange. What had previously been times of chaos and recklessness, had transformed into moments of systematically making sure Fredi was in the least possible danger.
It had been frustrating for Fredi, and for Alfdin too.
The sisterly relationship that had previously been so impenetrable, has been reduced to that of friends in an adventuring group.
The lasting memories of their childhood burned strong for both of them. Was it possible that Alfdin has changed? That Fredi is just following her lead?
No. It can’t be. Alfdin hasn’t changed that much. It had always been her dream to adventure. Fredi had always wanted to be a nurse.
Fredi had wanted to be a nurse.
The same girl who now decapitates orcs, goblins and even trolls, without a second thought, could not be the young girl who had cried when she stepped on miniscule ants, who had wanted to be a nurse to save helpless victims of war.
The same girl who is left to her own devices, killing nameless creatures left and right, is the one who wanted to save lives and swore to Alfdin that she would never take one.
Alfdin knows that just healing the innocent isn’t possible anymore, and so does Fredi. Fredi is protecting, just not in the way either of them had imagined.
The world is changing.
And in the blink of an eye, so is Fredi.